The Rock Chamber Boys : The Complete Series

by Daisy Allen

  "Noémie."

  "No, you should've... you should've given me at least the tiniest benefit of the doubt. Because I told you. I told you!"

  He gets up on his feet, following me as I pace. "I'm sorry, can you blame me? It was a confusing time. I had just been ambushed with the news that you, you were the one driving the car that hit me. And if that wasn’t bad enough, that you were drunk at the time. I didn't have any reason not to believe them."

  "You're right. About most of it. You had almost every reason but one. Me. You should've believed me." I point to my chest, where I’m radiating hurt from the betrayal of my best friend. And the lover I keep losing.

  "Noémie."

  "You came to me, a stranger out of the mist, telling me you knew me. And everything told me I didn't. But I chose to believe you. And I let you in."

  "Why?"

  "Because something told me I could trust you. But you can't say the same about me."

  "We can work through this, Noémie. So much needs to be explained, talked about, understood about what really happened."

  "It won't matter, Jez. In the end, I didn't fight for myself, and you didn't fight for me either.” It’s over. I know it is.

  "No. This is bullshit. I DID fight for you. I fought YOU for you. You say you believed me in the beginning, but you didn’t. Not really. But I was there, every step. Making you trust me. I am NOT letting you go."

  "You're right, I didn't believe you, at first. When you came barreling into my hospital room like a maniac! It doesn’t take a brain injury patient to be wary, anyone with any common sense would be. But after the initial shock, I was all in. I was so all in I was ready to marry you. Jez! And I still would've. Until I became the thing you hate most. And you were just so ready to believe it all."

  "Noémie, please understand, it's a grudge I have. I couldn't get over it at first."

  "And now?" I throw my hands up, what else is there to say.

  He sighs, "You're not that person."

  "But I might as well have been, Jez. Where we stand with my memory, you're just a stranger I used to know. And I'm the girl who hit you with my car."

  "We'll get your memory back. I remember it, I remember it all. I can help you. I'll remind you every day,” he says clasping his chest, like his is hurting him too. And it takes every ounce of strength I have not to run to him, and hold him. Because it will just make it harder to leave in the end.

  "No. I can't. I want to. God knows, I want to be with you so much, I'd almost give it all up for you. Lose myself in you. Live through you."

  "So, come, be with me!”

  "No, maybe I would’ve before, but I can't now. I let my injury dictate so much, so much that I was willing to believe something I knew I would never have done. That's not who I am. I don't want to exist just as someone you fell in love with, and you’re trying to recreate. I need to find out who I am."

  "Don’t do this. I just got you back, Emmie.” His voice catches, cracking as he calls me by my nickname. It springs tears to my eyes.

  "That person doesn’t exist, Jez.”

  "You’re not your brain injury.” He catches my hand and presses it to his chest. “You exist in here as well, Emmie. And you exist as this living breathing person in front of me."

  If words could make everything alright, those would be it. But it’s not as easy at that. I gently extract my hand from his.

  "But I’m not whole."

  "You don't have to be. Remember how you once said you wanted every jagged, broken piece of me?"

  "I still do, I always will,” I say, hoping at least he will remember that. That this was never about how much I wanted him.

  "Then let me do that for you.” His eyes fill with a desperation I know too well, felt too well, just a few months ago.

  "I can't. I'm sorry. I... I need to find out who I am, not just try to regain who I was. Maybe now it's your turn, to forget you ever met me.” I reach up and touch the side of Jez Petrescu’s face one last time before I turn and walk towards my house.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Jez

  "You ready?" Sebastian asks me, as we step into the green room.

  "No."

  "Too damn bad, man. Fifteen minutes ‘til curtain's up." He shrugs to say there’s nothing you can do about it now.

  I glare at him. "I feel like, I want to say a big ol' ... ‘fuck you’ to you right now."

  "Bring it on, dude.”

  I breathe out, my shoulders relaxing. "Nah, I might save for later, when I really need to."

  "Well, you know where I'll be."

  "At the bar?"

  "Nah, man. I’ll be right there next to you. Every single moment. I've got you." He hugs me tight before I have a chance to move.

  "Fuck you." I say, trying to wriggle out of his embrace.

  "Ha!” He laughs, following it up with, “14 minutes, 30 seconds."

  "Fuck you, again.” I hiss.

  “You wish. I know you’ve been envious of Cadence getting all this,” he runs his hands up and down his body, pouting his lips at me. He looks absolutely ridiculous. And I can’t help but laugh.

  "Now, now. Get a room you two,” Brad pokes his head in between us to say.

  "Fuck you, too."

  "Hey! What's going on? I feel left out!” Marius yells from the spot on the floor where he’s meditating.

  "No need to feel left out. You get a double fuck you! One for sleeping with my sister."

  "So ‘fuck you’ is code for... ’thank you’? ‘Cos... that's what she said,” he grins.

  I take a running leap and jump on him. Sebastian and Marius run over and instead of pulling me off him, pounce right on top. Soon we’re nothing but a pile of writhing arms and legs and curses.

  "Whatever you fucktards are doing right now, stop it!" A loud voice comes booming out through the portable speaker we’re just noticing is on the table.

  Brad pushes me off him and crawls over to the speaker, picking it up off the table.

  "Aw hell, someone turned the fucking intercom on again."

  "Yeah, me, who else,” Dennis says through the speaker. “And whoever is ragging on Jez, stop. And Marius, put your fucking pants on."

  Marius looks down at his bare legs. "Dude. How does he know?"

  "I know everything, remember? That’s why I feel no guilt in paying myself millions of dollars from the money I make for you dickweasels every year. NOW PUT YOUR FUCKING CLOTHES ON AND FOR GOD’S SAKES JUST CALM YOUR TITS AND TRY NOT TO KILL EACH OTHER BEFORE THE GODDAMNED FUCKING SHOW!"

  There’s a buzz as Dennis shut the intercom off and we all grin at each other.

  Fuck the millions of dollars and the fans. Right here, right now, this feeling, it's why we're here.

  Each other.

  Brad sighs, "I'd really like a blow job right now. I'm so nervous."

  "Well, don't look at me, I just got told to put my pants back on."

  "You don't need pants to give blow jobs!”

  "Dude, I wouldn't know. I've been on the strictly receiving blow jobs only diet for my life." Marius grins at our viola player.

  I sink down onto the end of the long couch, trying to breathe.

  Sebastian cracks open a beer and hands it to me. I reach out and take a long drink, then hold it in my hands, picking at the label.

  His right eyebrow cocks, but he doesn’t say anything. I guess he sees my hand shaking as it grips the bottle neck.

  It’s kind of hard to miss.

  “I’m okay,” I say, answering the question in his eyes. But the truth is, I’ve been asking myself the same question all day.

  I check my watch. Five minutes to curtain’s up. For our first concert since the accident.

  Since I collided with a car.

  Well, it collided with me.

  And then I collided with the ground.

  Hard.

  Eight months.

  It’s been a long, painful, soul destroying, heart wrenching eight months. And truthfully, only
a very small part of it was because of the accident and my injuries. The rest has been trying to put my life back together since her.

  Noémie.

  It’s been over three months since I saw her that day in front of her house.

  And I’ve called her every day since.

  Up until today.

  Today, I tell myself, will be the last time. If she doesn’t answer today, I will stop.

  I will let her move on. I will let myself let go.

  Today.

  I’ve been on this precipice before.

  The dawning of a new age.

  This time, it’s for a life without her.

  A good life, a meaningful one, one filled with friends and music.

  But not with her.

  One more day, I give myself.

  Because hope exists when everything else is gone.

  Over the last few months, I’ve realized she was right. I didn’t fight for her. I let the grudges of my past cloud my view of life. She’s right. I hadn’t given her a chance. Yes, for all intents and purposes, it appeared she had caused the accident. There was almost no reason to doubt it.

  Except the only reason that counted.

  Trust.

  She told me, time and again, that she couldn’t imagine it had been her fault.

  But I didn’t listen.

  When she had given me all the patience and belief she could summon in that giant heart of hers.

  So, I don’t deserve her.

  But I love her.

  And I had hoped that that would be enough.

  But I guess it wasn’t.

  And now I’m the one who has to live the rest of my life with my mistake.

  “Two minutes.” Brad says.

  And I look up, watching Sebastian pacing around the green room. Part of his pre-show routine. He usually starts the show, so all the burden of that first note is on him. While the rest of us relax, knowing it’s not on our shoulders to kick the show off right.

  But tonight, isn’t about hiding.

  “Hey, Seb?”

  “What?”

  “You mind if I take the lead in the opening tonight?”

  His face doesn’t move, he just asks, “You sure?”

  “Now or never.”

  He grins, and reaches over and slaps me on the shoulder.

  “It’s all yours, Willy Whacker.”

  “Thanks, Fuck Ferret.”

  “That’s a new one! I like it.”

  “Thought you would, I’ve been saving it just for you.”

  There’s a knock on the door. We file out of the room and it’s a rare moment of seriousness.

  It’s been a long time and I know I’m not the only one wondering what the reception will be like. We only know that we’re lucky to have had the success we’ve enjoyed until now. Nothing is a given. And nothing is to be taken for granted.

  As we walk through the underground path up to the stage wings, the roars from the crowd grow.

  “Rock Chamber Boys! Rock Chamber Boys!”

  Sebastian turns around and gives me a grin.

  Marius slaps me on the back from behind.

  Our footsteps quicken and before I know it, we’re practically sprinting to the end of the hallway that will lead up to our fate.

  “FUCKKKKKKK YEAHHHHHHHHHH!” I scream as I take those last few steps, clearing out the last of any cobwebs that have lingered after my forced hiatus.

  My head is crystal clear.

  And I know what I wasn’t sure of until this very moment – I am ready.

  We climb up the stairs and are led through to the dark backstage area, then stand in the wings waiting for our cue. There’s no point in talking, the screams and shouts from the waiting crowd drown out all other noise.

  I’m jumping from leg to leg.

  “GO!” Our stage manager yells and pushes us out from behind the wings.

  It’s completely pitch dark. Tiny little LED lights on the stage that only we can see tell us where to stand.

  I locate my cello and bow by feel. Pressing my ear close to the strings, giving the tuning one last check, I feel my hands shake again. But I know, it’s not because of the injury.

  It’s because of the adrenalin.

  It’s back.

  I’ve missed it.

  The sound from the audience grows in volume and passion. I’ve missed them too. Even though it’s dark, I close my eyes and try to visualize the space around me, the people, friends and strangers, and the music.

  But all I can see is her face. We’re in Paris tonight. We talked about where our first concert should be, and this is the only place that felt right. And it would be perfect, if only she were out there.

  I feel the guys settle down around me.

  It’s time.

  There’s a bright flash of light, our signature signal that the show is about to start. The crowd screams and then goes silent. I count us down, under my breath. And pull my bow.

  The single note rings true and clear, growing stronger and stronger, as an ambient white light glows, bright and brighter, bathing us all.

  I wanted it this way.

  We’re known for our concerts’ light shows, as intricate and as complex as the music. But tonight, we wanted to make it clear that we are back, and for the next hour, we’re all in this together. No spotlight trickery, no dancing disco ball scattered light to start off with. Just us and them, together in a room, enjoying music.

  I pull until there’s no more length on my bow, and I look around the giant venue. And I can see everyone’s faces, smiling back at me.

  And then I play.

  It’s an original, one we wrote for this very night. Starting out simple, melodic, almost dark and shadowy in its tones, abstract. Like Debussy telling stories of his heartbreak.

  It’s just me.

  My fingers slow and deliberate over the fingerplate as my bow draws each note from the strings. They’re fluid and flexible, almost back to their old state. My wrist still aches a little and it’s probable that it always will.

  But it doesn’t stop me.

  It doesn’t stop me telling my story.

  The song builds, and in the corners of my eyes I see my bandmates start to move. Right on cue, the song dives into the chorus, and Sebastian and Marius and Brad join me. Like musical pillars building from the ground, taking my melody higher and higher, supporting from above, beside, and behind me. My forehead is already slick with sweat and I flick my head back, to get it out of my eyes.

  The chorus is a frenzy of sound.

  The images playing out in my mind of the chaos of the hospital, of the rehab, the recovery. It’s an arrangement of the song Noémie wrote for me. Pour Jeremy. My story in song.

  They have to know.

  I want then all to know what tonight is about. I give Sebastian a quick tilt of my head and he knows. He immediately takes over my part as I reach for the microphone in front of me.

  “This one’s for you, Noémie.” I say, “Wherever you are in the world, right now. I hope you know, every note I play tonight, is for you.”

  There’s a loud collective cheer from the crowd, and it makes my heart swell. I pick up my bow, and position it, waiting for the right break in the music. I jump in, and Sebastian falls back, reclaiming his harmony line, Brad’s violin, weaving in and out over us.

  I lose myself in it all.

  Letting the music carry me that last few steps in my recovery. And even though she may never hear it, every time I play it, I’ll remember her. I love you, Noémie. Always know, there’s someone out there who loves you.

  Suddenly, the venue falls completely dark. All the microphones and audio from our instruments shut off. There’s a gasp from the crowd as they go quiet.

  “What the fuck?” I whisper to Seb.

  “I don’t know. Can you see you anything?”

  “Yeah, a great big lot of black, idiot.”

  “Hey, what’s going on?” I hear Marius ask from my right.

  “W
e know about as much as you do.”

  “Well, don’t move, let the crew take care of it.”

  “Fucking hell.”

  “Relax.” Marius says, in his hippie way that actually helps sometimes.

  Now is not one of those times.

  I hear footsteps running past me, and I imagine it’s the crew trying to fix whatever’s happened.

  “Just hang on, guys. We’re on it.” Hank, our assistant, whispers to us, and then he’s off again.

  I put my bow on the ground and run my fingers through my hair, I’m sweating all over.

  My body is so full of adrenaline it’s excruciating to have to just sit here, with no outer stimulation. Something about the darkness makes me crawl inside my own brain, hide there. Images I don’t want to be seeing are projecting in front of my eyes like slides. Of Noémie, over and over. The first time we met, when I saw her at the hospital the first time, our first kiss, when she held me as I broke down in the bath tub, the look on her face as we ran down to the aisle to get married, when she told me I hadn’t trusted her, hadn’t fought for her. When she’d told me to forget her.

  And it occurs to me, this doesn’t mean anything without her here. Without her, I probably wouldn’t even be here.

  There’s not a chance I’m moving on. I’ve got to go find her.

  And I’ve got to make her realize, she’s meant to be with me.

  “Seb,” I whisper into the dark, “I gotta go!”

  “Stop joking around! They’ll have the lights on in a minute.”

  “No! I’m serious, I’ve gotta go! I’ve gotta go find her. NOW! I can’t believe I’ve left it this long.”

  He sighs, and I can feel him move around in the dark, looking for my arm. Once he does, he squeezes it. “Buddy, she’s… look, let’s just get through the concert alright? Then… then I’ll help you with whatever you need.”

  “But I need to go, now!” The urgency builds every second I spend thinking about how stupid I have been to let so much time pass.

  “Jez… one more night isn’t going to make a difference, okay? Soon as it’s over, we’re out of here. But please, stay, for us.” His voice is desperate, I’ve rarely heard something sound so important to him before.

  I want to leave, I want to leave so much my skin is crawling, disobeying me, wanting to escape, cell by cell. But I know I owe it to my boys. Tonight, is about them, not me.